Worthwhile
by incendiarydaisies
Summary: Tiz doesn't know how to categorize his feelings for Agnès and asks Ringabel for some perspective – Ringabel, Master of All Things Romantic (as well as Renowned Chocolate Connoisseur and Analyzer of the Female Form), attempts to decipher the emotions. Hinted: T/A and R/E


Author's Note: I've been thinking of doing a more serious slightly-AU Alternis Dim/Edea piece (it's a problem, really), buuUUUut I had this nagging image in my head of Ringabel offering semi-unwanted lady advice to a very embarrassed Tiz. Besides, Agnès/Tiz need some recognition, even if they are sort of the vanilla wafers of _Bravely Default_. It's okay, we love them anyway. Critique/comment/write a limerick about your favorite food in the reviews if you feel so inclined!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Bravely Default_ or any characters therein. It's a bummer!

…..

This was very off course. So off course, so random, that Ringabel was positively _shocked_ that Airy had not grabbed Agnès by the hair and swam her across the ocean to get back to the pressing crystal. With a dejected sigh, he tucked his leather-bound notebook into his breast pocket. Nope, after he had several paper cuts he was positively certain: this side expedition was not on schedule.

Of course, it was good to get away from the ship and have a change of scenery that was _not_ filled with evil pirates and ravenous pigeons. Those flying beasts had stolen too many bits of bread and rapidly depleted their lunch food rations – thinking of his attempts to eat sandwiches on the top deck was terrifying enough to permanently haunt him. Between the monsters and Edea, he was surprised that the party kept sufficiently nourished. _Shudder_.

Luckily, the scenery of the flower-obsessed city was easy on the eyes. Even if this particular part of the journey was not in his journal, _some how, some way_, Ringabel would endure the struggle. The plethora of bustiers and I-Can't-Believe-That's-Not-Illegal!-hemlines would comfort him through the crick in the neck he obtained through the last week of steering the ship on (what seemed to him) a wild goose chase.

They had stopped in Florem chasing the rumors of how to drown out a siren's allure, one in a line of _many_ ridiculous gossips they had to thoroughly investigate to successfully battle Praline, Diva of the Battlefield and Possible Contender for Ringabel's Heart (Sorry, Stunning Angel Edea Lee). Of course, Ringabel had an insatiable curiosity when it came to Praline's voice and wondered if it would be truly _so bad_ to _not_ figure out the trick and listen to her wonderfully spun melodies for…science – voluptuous, short-skirt wearing science – but, as Airy's shrill voice and the bruise on his arm courtesy of his fiery flax-haired flame reminded him, that was _not_ an option.

_Alas_.

Walking down the steep, colorful steps of Florem, Ringabel cast his eyes around for his traveling mates only to settle on the thought-caught Tiz. His hazy brown hair obscured some of his face, but Ringabel could feel the waves of discomfort and preoccupation practically rolling off of him. What would it be now, the pompadour'd man wondered? Was he equally troubled that Edea was eating through their dietary budget? Did he _also_ fear the moment they would have to bring it up to her without it making it sound…well, honestly – "you need to eat less" would _never_ be as graceful as it needed to be. Or, more realistically (because they all knew Edea's rage would be taken out on _him_), had his nightmarish fits begun to wear further on his mind even while waking?

Though Ringabel jokingly pried into his companion's private lives, he had never once asked Tiz who "Til" was, or why that was the name he muttered into the dark cabin through cold sweats. There were certain things you waited for, that conversation was one of them.

Turning his head to the store opposite of Tiz, he smiled. Approaching his friend and taking a seat next to him on the ornately carved bench, he nudged the younger boy with a sharp elbow – "Tiz, _do_ tell me that you haven't foolishly donated your coin purse to Edea's Fashion Fund without inviting me!"

Stirred from his daydream, Tiz looked up to Ringabel with an inquisitive look; casting his eyes toward the store front to see what he was referencing. The interaction made him smile.

Edea was trying to entice Agnès back into good graces with _très fashionaaabluh_ stoles of floral and animal print variety; the brunette was at first withdrawn, but subtle smiles had begun to make their way back to her face – especially when Edea dramatically wrapped herself in deliberately clashing combinations, batting her eyelashes affectedly. Tiz understood how awkward the situation had to be for both Edea and Ringabel and respected that they were trying as hard as they could to erase some of the mounting negative energy, especially after some of the out-of-character remarks Agnès had been making.

Airy seemed to be questioning the shopkeep while the girls fussed with the silken goodies, Tiz was glad to see Agnès having fun – seeing a smile bloom on her face after holding a frown for so long, it relieved him. Even now, he could feel his heart beat a little faster when she laughed in mock-outrage when Edea pulled a particularly (ugly? Chic-esque? Tiz wasn't good at fashion-ology, but it was some sort of green that he didn't know existed before that moment) scarf off the shelves to wrap around her shoulders.

"Do you…" Tiz hesitated, instigating the conversation at a smidge below standard volume even if he logically knew that the girls were far away from earshot. He cleared his throat, turning his head to his relatively new friend, "Ringabel, do you think that she knows that I—that _we_, you know…that we support her?"

A shrug, "we can only show our support through our actions. She can be quite obstinate when she wishes."

That seemed to be of little conciliation. Their conversation slipped back into temporary silence; Ringabel cast a glance at his fingernails boredly, by reflex nearly reaching for his journal only to control the impulse. Searching for signs of his identity had grown exhausting. Simply, nothing rang a bell. He would have smiled at his own joke if he hadn't told it to himself one hundred times before. Actually, scratch that – it was still _hilarious_.

A sigh from Tiz brought Ringabel back into focus. "It just…." The mousy brown-hair blew lightly in the breeze that filtered the smell of the traditional herb-crusted chicken roulade through the streets. "It isn't right for her to think she's doing this alone. We promised to protect her. I just want her to believe me when I say I want to be there until the end, I want to help her more than anything." A beat. "I _have_ to." His shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes looking at the cobblestones. There was a small glimpse back up to the lithe brunette before a slight shift of his boot against the stone below.

Just like that, the switch clicked within Ringabel and he _knew_. He knew what all this was about – _sure_, he had inclinations during their stay at Sage Yulyana's, but that singular statement confirmed any suspicion. It seemed his dear, innocent friend had a small crush on their sheltered, destined friend! How could he not have seen it _sooner_? And more importantly, how was that relationship going to make _any progression_ when he could have sworn that Agnès blushed when she first saw Tiz' bare shoulders and Tiz _still_ looked away when Agnès shifted into spell fencer garb? No. Nevermind. He _lived_ for a challenge.

Narrowing his eyes, the blonde turned back to the store and took in the brunette's form. Though sometimes narrow minded (hello, that green hue was _perfect _for her shade of hair!), Agnès _was_ gifted in form; their adventurous endeavors had given her more strength, her willowy frame showing slight toning after a lifetime of prayer and hymns. She failed to compare in sheer shapeliness as Edea, but in her graceful and quiet way, she was truly attractive. Perhaps it was _good_ that the two women were built differently. Not only was variety the delectable spice of life, additionally, had they both been built like Amazonian goddesses, he would have been rendered _useless_ on the battlefield. Dumbstruck. Thunderstruck. Lovestruck. Killed by scantily clad goddesses.

Should the fates be so kind.

Right. Tiz had asked him a question. "She'll come around, Tiz. It's been a very stressful time for all of us, but with anxiety comes resolution and _you_ will be waiting for her at the end. We all will. The longer the wait, the more worthwhile it is."

He nodded, Ringabel's words resonating with him. If anything was worthwhile, helping Agnès was high on that list. After he lost his family, his home, _everything_, he found purpose in helping her. "You're right. We're going to help her and make it through this. She deserves it. After all, she's sweet, smart, very organized, determined—"

"…_and_, she's beautiful." Ringabel tacked onto the end of Tiz' sentence, _just in case_ the sentiment was glossed over.

"She's beautiful," he had whispered, causing Ringabel to lean in slightly. "I can't deny that." The admission made him feel a little lighter, like it was a secret he had been hiding from Ringabel for fear that he would get the wrong idea. Over time, he sort of figured out that Ringabel was _mostly_ wrong ideas – acknowledging something obviously surely _couldn't_ backfire in some way in the future. Even if it was to their makeshift Cupid.

Oh, wait…_what had he done_?

"My good man," Ringabel started as he stood up, patting down his pants to rid them of invisible dirt as the women made their way out of the store, Angès holding a small box that Edea had shoved into her hands, "you should have _seen_ the bravo bikini." Clapping his hand on Tiz' shoulder after the younger boy's upper body had stiffened in embarrassment, the blonde self-proclaimed Casanova threw his head back and considered his job there finished.

"Ah, ladies! Florem was positively bereft of beauty before you decided to grace us with your presence! Isn't that right, Tiz?"

Tiz Arrior, survivor of countless monster fights and rebuilder of Norende, could only blush with his head in his hands.


End file.
